Five Little Words
by HowlynMad
Summary: Sherlock Holmes... James Moriarty. Two sides of the same coin. One who sides with the angels and one who delights in being a devil. Can Moriarty seduce Sherlock into joining him with five simple, little, words? Is that really all it would take... to make an angel fall... how about a high functioning sociopath?


Sherlock: Five Little Words

 _Originally, I posted this under "Conversation with the Devil". I thought I would add some things then realized it was a complete overhaul. While the plot remains the same, I have updated a great deal of the dialog. I could put these two in a room for a week, listen to them talk, and never get bored. Their dynamic is fascinating. I liked the idea that Moriarty would rather destroy Sherlock than kill him. That whole episode was brilliant. And the thing is, we've seen how far Sherlock will go. He doesn't have many limits. So what would it take to push him over the edge into villainy? Maybe something as simple as five little words?_

"Five words. That's all it would take. Five words and I own you, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective and probably the only man in the world to face off against James Moriarty, criminal mastermind and walk away... at least until now. "How sad. I thought you might actually be a challenge. Rather disappointing to find out you're simply delusional."

Moriarty smiled unpleasantly. "Five words." He held up a small key and reaching behind Holmes unlocked the cuffs. Tossing them on the table, he turned. "I don't really need them. I just rather like seeing you restrained." He motioned, "You're free to leave anytime."

Holmes rubbed his wrists unhurriedly. No matter what Moriarty said, he wasn't going to allow him to just leave. This game had only just begun. He could still feel the effects of the drugs in his system. Fighting his way out wasn't really an option. He needed to bide his time. Luckily, his adversary liked to talk."How gracious of you."

Moriarty clapped his hands together. "So you'll be staying awhile then? Brilliant. We can do lunch. I do think there's something we should discuss. Don't you?"

"Such as?"

"Our relationship, of course. I think we've been growing apart lately."

"I'm not playing this ridiculous game with you. You went to a lot of trouble to get me here. Let's just get to it. What is it you really want?"

Moriarty shrugged. A small pout played on his lips, "Thought I might give you a chance, that's all."

"A chance?" Sherlock stood slowly. His vision swam and he leaned against the chair. Whatever drugs the criminal had used, they were potent.

The shorter man paced around him. "I really can't allow _this_ ," he motioned between them, "...to go on." "You're interfering where you don't belong and I really can't have that. Fun is fun but you cost me time and manpower with that last little gambit of yours."

The detective grinned," I should have known you'd be a sore loser. It's gratifying to hear you admit it, though."

Moriarty tsked, "Really now, Sherlock, you're the last one I expected to operate under such self-delusion. You can't hurt me… not like I can hurt you. You know that. You have sooo much to lose."

"Let's keep this between us where it belongs, Moriarty."

"As you wish, he conceded with a knowing tone. "I don't know why you continue to deny that you and I are the same."

"Because we're not." The detective swayed. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Did John realize he was missing? Would he have already called Lestrade? His thoughts were slow and thick. Annoying.

"Denial is not worthy of you. What of the thousands of geniuses out there? People whose minds rival yours?"

Sherlock raised a single elegant brow. "That's over-stating a bit, don't you think?"

"Answer something for me," Moriarty gestured in agitation. "With your brilliant mind, why didn't you become an engineer or a scientist…"

"I am a scientist…" Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest.

"You know what I mean," a small smile played at the man's lips. "Why aren't you out there using that intellect of yours for the good of mankind? Finding new energy sources or creating much needed vaccines?"

Sherlock snorted lightly. "Pedantic."

"Exactly! Why would you care?" Moriarty agreed, "You wouldn't do any of those things because those things aren't enough. They are still too _ordinary_ … too boring. There are others with brilliance out there… but they aren't.. like.. you. I know you realize the truth of it."

"I know what I am. There's nothing revolutionary you can tell me."

"Maybe you just need to hear someone say it. Hm?" Moriarty leaned against the wall with an air of casual indifference. "It's not just about the games, you know. There are so many mysteries in the world begging to be solved. Lots to choose from… but the murders, the bodies, the death… do you even understand your obsession?"

"You're one to talk about obsession," Sherlock snapped back. "You're rather obvious, you know."

"Am I?" the psychopath smirked.

Sherlock shook his head slowly, "Really, Moriarty. This is becoming tedious. What do you want?"

"Have I not made myself clear? We can't continue down our current path. And I would rather not have to kill you. So I will break you… then I will remake you."

The eye-roll finally appeared, "Now a god complex. Not really surprising. How predictable you're becoming. Better hurry up and get to the point before I'm totally disenchanted."

Moriarty scowled then his expression brightened to mad glee. "I'm probably going to enjoy this more than anything I've ever done. Though, you're probably not going to appreciate it all that much. At least, not at first, not until you acknowledge the obvious. You will be my masterpiece, Sherlock Holmes!"

"If you only kidnapped me to blow hot air up my skirt then I'll just be leaving." Sherlock pulled himself erect and attempted not to stumble as the room seemed to undulate slightly. The dizziness finally receded and with as much nonchalance as he could muster, Sherlock turned his back on his nemesis. He didn't really think that Moriarty intended to kill him but it was hard to tell true intentions when it came to psychopaths. He didn't get three steps before…

"You'll… never… be… bored… again," Moriarty staccatoed, his tone as chilling as the arctic wind.

The detective stopped dead in his tracks. For a crazy second, he almost thought his heart had done the same. His mind was racing at breakneck speed but his voice never wavered when he responded with bite, "Technically, that's six words. *You'll* is a contraction of you and will."

Moriarty's breath ghosted in his ear. When had he gotten so close? "I'm the only one that can really understand that desire, the one that never lets you rest. You already know that but your ego won't let you admit it. You and I are two of a kind. We were made for each other. There's nothing or no one that could stand against us, once we put our minds to it. The world is ours."

Sherlock couldn't help it, he again rolled his eyes dramatically; "I can see I'll have to add megalomania to your obvious psychopathic tendencies."

"Takes one to know one," Moriarty sing-songed. "And I know one…"

This was ridiculous. "I have no interest in power mongering. It's all too tedious. If you want to rule the world, have at it."

Moriarty wagged his finger. "Come on, now," he wheedled. "Think it through. How better to prove that you're the cleverest man on the planet? Hm? No one, not even your brother can deny it. He couldn't stop you, you know that, right? That's why he keeps you on such a tight leash. He knows. He sees your potential. All you have to do is commit to it."

"Or be committed for listening to you." Sherlock drew himself up, using his height to intimidate. "And I don't need to prove that I'm the cleverest man on the planet." He left the implication unsaid.

Moriarty wrapped his arms around himself, "Your arrogance leaves me all a quiver. But if you're so smart then why limit yourself to pitting your intellect against criminals… when you could pit your mind against all comers?"

Sherlock cocked his head, "How do you mean?"

A Cheshire grin slid slowly across Moriarty's lips, … _got you_. "Let's face it, Sherlock; how many criminals are truly worthy of your attention besides me?"

Sherlock shot him a withering look, another eye-roll imminent.

"You know it's true. Most are adequate at best," Moriarty winked at him. "You solve their crimes not because it satisfies that craving that chews at your brain but because it's better than the alternative. Anything is better than the boredom. Anything." He sighed.

"You know nothing about my desires."

"Oh, but I do. I share them. You have to work with what challenges you can find but they're never enough. Are they?" he offered solicitously. "For myself, I find amusement with not only criminals but with the "civilized" people… especially those that think themselves above the law. Funny how you give ordinary people money or status and they think they're special." He paused to let his words ruminate. "And well, there are the *ordinary* ordinary people too, but they don't really count, being as they're so… ordinary. Though, they do make useful pawns… or experiments. Take your pet for example…"

Sherlock's expression hardened, "I'm warning you…"

"Now, now, I'm not trying to start an argument. I'm just trying to make a point. Why do you subject yourself to self-imposed restrictions? Think of all the games you could play if you didn't limit yourself to the criminal element."

"Thereby making myself one of their number… how transparent."

Moriarty scoffed, "There you go again. You really must stop counting yourself as one of the herd when you're so clearly not. Who cares? You and I don't need to bother with classifications. The world is what we make it."

"I do wish you'd stop associating us. You're boring me with your attempt to create camaraderie by pointing out our similarities. World conquest or whatever the plot… is your goal, not mine."

"Do you have so little ambition? How disappointing . How can you be content to chase police inspectors for the rest of your days?" Moriarty turned the screw ever tighter. "Is that really your grand plan? Sherlock, please. I know the cracks are starting to appear. Hasn't been enough cases of late to _really_ hold your interest has there? It's the same routine murders, thievery, and other small minded machinations. It's the same daily trite. People are so tedious, it makes my gums ache."

Moriarty tapped himself on the chin, "You have to do something to make it more interesting." He crossed his arms over his chest and continued, "There's always the drugs, I suppose. But the backlash is a bother. And really, how much fun is it to be in a stupor all the time? Because that's what it will come down to eventually if you continue to use chemical means to subdue your intellectual imperative. You're not really going to bother to deny it, are you?"

Sherlock's mouth had gone dry. "Of course not. What would be the point?" He understood the implications of his continued drug use only too well.

"Well, good then. They say admitting you have a problem is the first step… and I'm not talking about the drugs." The psychopath grinned, "How long can you take it? How long before you just… snap? How long will it be before the boredom drives you quite literally insane?"

Sherlock wanted to swallow the lump in his throat but there simply wasn't any moisture left. The madman wasn't telling him anything that he hadn't already considered. People always thought that he couldn't feel but that wasn't true. He had emotions, though, they were often inappropriate to the situation. When he considered losing the one perfect thing he had, through madness or medical intervention… he was terrified. His perfect mind was everything. "Is that what happened to you?" he snapped back archly.

"No reason to get catty. Could it be that I've struck a nerve?" Moriarty prodded, "Come on. What do you say? We play adversaries very well but what say we try it as allies? Just once. Who knows what could happen! It will be glorious."

Sherlock snorted lightly. He shouldn't be considering anything that the psychopath had to say. By very definition, Moriarty simply would not play well with others. But then again that was part of the challenge, wasn't it. "So _you_ say."

The detective's mind raced ahead in seven different directions at once, considering the pros and cons of such a scenario. But no matter the tally, he kept coming back to just one thing… John. John would not approve of his contemplation. That's how he had begun to gauge the appropriateness of his actions. Would John approve? If he wouldn't, then generally Sherlock would take a second look at the situation. Not that he cared one way or the other what people thought of his behavior but John cared.

He was learning he needed to make some concessions if he wanted to keep his friend. Though, he couldn't quite say why, it was important to him what John thought. After all, John was the only real friend he'd ever had; it was a novel experience for him. It brought thoughts and emotions to the surface that were new and potentially exciting. Initially, he thought the distractions that John caused would hamper his process but oddly enough, it turned out to be the opposite. John's presence was actually beneficial to his work. In the end, _the work_ , was what really mattered and John had quickly become part of that routine. He didn't want to lose that… or his friend.

"I always keep my promises, Sherlock."

"I…" the detective hesitated, "What did you have in mind?"

END.

 _You can interpret the last line in several ways. I leave it up to the readers, how they feel about Sherlock's question. There have been some interesting comments. Some even found it unsettling. What do you think? Let me know in the comments and thanks for reading!_


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